Demonic Blue
by Zakle
Summary: Cole Turner had felt Phoebe's love in A Witch's Tail but, deep down, he had also felt disgust and hate. He chose to continue his plans to leave-for good this time. But nothing is ever easy when it comes to a half-demon with too much power to contain in his body. In San Francisco, an enemy they thought was destroyed is back but it's not who they think it is. ON HIATUS.
1. Releasing Phoebe

A/N: Takes place shortly after season five's A Witch's Tail. Most of this story is very Cole-centric. If you don't like Cole or stories involving Cole then you probably won't like mine. Cole might be OOC but I'm trying my best to keep everyone in-character. This chapter is, more or less, a simple introduction and serves as a prologue to the rest of the story. The chapters will get longer, hopefully, and better detailed.

* * *

 **Demonic Blue**

 _Chapter One — Releasing Phoebe_

* * *

 _"The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward."_ — Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience.

* * *

"I'm saying you need to leave. It'll do you both some good," Paige said, crossing her arms. The setting sun coming in from Cole's apartment only highlighted the youngest Charmed Ones' pale skin, and Cole, who had turned to address the invading witch, had stopped to momentarily stare. He hadn't realized just how … _pale_ the woman was.

Smiling slyly, he swiftly retorted, "You haven't seen much sun. Are you spending all your off hours in the underworld?"

"Ha, ha, very funny." Paige rolled her eyes and cocked her hip to one side. She turned her eyes back to the half-demon, squinting, eyebrow arched. "So …" she trailed off, bluntly glancing at the sleek packed suitcases on Cole's impeccably made bed. With a half sigh, half laugh, he leaned against one of the windows, throwing up a hand and shrugging one shoulder. "I've already gone over this," Paige announced with a groan. "Phoebe may still love you, but you're causing her pain-hell you're causing all of us pain."

Cole closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. "Yeah, I know." Paige stopped, her mouth halfway open to continue talking.

It didn't take her long to recover. "If you know, then do everyone a favor, and leave us alone. Go disappear in one of your dimensional plains." She waved her hand to the side erratically, trying to show she didn't care where he went, just as long as it wasn't where they were. "What changed your mind anyway? I thought you were all for obsessing over Phoebe."

Cole pushed away from the wall and paced the length of the room in silence. Finally, he opened his mouth and spoke the things he hadn't dared dwell on when he first felt them-he had been too ecstatic to feel Phoebe's love for him. He hadn't noticed the bad ones until the connection had been severed. "I felt it in her heart. There was love, but there was also hatred for what I am, for what I've done. She wants me gone or at least a part of her does." His body sagged, his legs stopped working and he was left standing in front of her, the energy he previously had stripped away from him.

"It would be good for the both of you if you left." This time Paige truly believed it.

"I hope you're right, Paige." Cole turned and shimmered away, leaving the pale witch alone in the now empty apartment.

* * *

Cole had spent years surrounded by demons, half-demons, and all kinds of demonic beings but he never felt like he belonged until he met Phoebe, her sisters, and even Leo. He had felt like he was in a family. A family of witches he had been sent to kill mind you but something grew there, something he lacked with his own mother.

Absentmindedly, he picked up a paintbrush loaded with light green paint and, with a long smooth motion, covered the last of the faded white wood. Cole felt ... conflicted. It was one less thing he couldn't obsess over, one less thing to push the thoughts of Phoebe away. The house itself was the first project and, though it took longer than the fence, hadn't taken as much time as he previously thought it would.

"Damn it," he muttered, roughly running a paint splattered hand through his hair. One more project. Just one more and he'd have nothing to distract him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, the weight of eyes on him. Slowly, with practiced ease, he stood from his crouch and turned, the hand hidden from view crackling with blue energy.

An elder woman smiled up at him with naivety. _Mortal._ Cole clutched his hand and smothered the energy ball before she took notice of it. "Hello," she said, her voice trembling with age. She stood near the back door of the house, using the side as a crutch to keep her balance. The wind, warm and mild, ruffled through her white curly hair

Cole blinked in confusion and gave her an awkward smile in return. Before he could think of responding, the back door flew open and two more strangers fled into the yard. The three began talking in hushed tones, the two younger ones noticeably shaky and worried. The old woman looked bothered and her face fell into an unpleasant frown.

"Stop your squawking. I'm not about to go dying because I want to meet the new neighbor." The old woman pushed the two men and walked closer to Cole who was, up to this point, silently hoping they'd just leave. "I'm Debra Brown. These two hooligans are my grandkids."

"Um, Cole Turner. Why are you-"

"Anyway, I just wanted to come over and say welcome to the neighborhood. We don't often get fresh blood here so I expect you to be at our grill out tomorrow night to meet everyone else."

Wasn't this what he wanted? A distraction to keep him from packing everything up and going back to Phoebe? It was laughable that this little old lady chatterbox would be the thing he was looking for. On either side of Debra, the two men looked at him apologetically. Cole forced a smile.

"What the hell? Sure, I'll be there." Inwardly, he added a half-hearted _maybe._ He had every intention to go, of course, for the everyday mundane talk. That kind of talk was numbing when he was human. It was the one thing he hadn't missed when he retained his demonic half.

Debra grinned and casually walked out, the other two mortals following closely behind. This time she went through the freshly painted gate.

Cole watched them leave, the fake smile slowly fading. He glanced down at the gate and bent to pick up the paintbrush. With short, easy strokes, he covered where the old woman had touched the still wet paint.

And it was done. His mind began to wander back to _her._ Her brown hair, her large eyes, her tanned skin, her banter ...

He stood, eyes clenched tightly closed, trying (and failing) to get the memories of her out of his head. Releasing Phoebe would be much harder than he thought.


	2. Ghost in the Kitchen

**Demonic Blue**

 _Chapter Two_ _— Ghost in the Kitchen_

* * *

The man was lanky but his eyes held a hunter's gaze. It took several minutes, after the certainty faded, for her to realize she was his prey. A doe caught in the sight of a lion. His focused blue eyes met hers and her heart jumped.

"No," she shouted frantically. Her wide eyes drifted to the opening of the alley, searching expectantly for someone to hear her voice.

He laughed–low and soft–and casually stepped away from the frightened woman. "Don't worry, little lamb," he began, taking slow strides and putting distance between them. "You're not the kind of prey this hunter seeks." He had disappeared around the corner, his voice and words the last reminder he was ever there.

Or so the woman thought.

As she pushed off the brick wall and ran, she never did spot the brunette with wide unseeing eyes feet away from where she had stood.

* * *

 _click_

 _clack_

 _clatter_

Cole woke in a cold sweat, heart pounding in his chest. He stared at the ceiling with strained ears. A second clatter sounded through the house. Soft, muted, obviously done with intention. The half-demon was out of the makeshift bed in seconds, his bare feet gliding soundlessly across the floor. Cautiously, he slunk downstairs. The only light coming from the crackling energy ball in his hand. The unfinished house was cast in a blue foreboding light.

The door leading into the kitchen was ajar. Soft mumbling somewhere inside caused him to come to a full stop, his mind quickly coming up with a battle strategy. Get in, duck behind the counter, shoot.

Steeling himself for what was to come, Cole rushed into the kitchen, ducked behind the counter, then ... then ...

The energy ball fell out of his hands.

"Prue _?_ " The name felt odd to say after all this time. Like it was taboo, a secret no one should hear.

The dark haired woman turned, pot in hand, and grimly smiled. "Long time, no see."

"What? How? When?"

Prue slammed the pot down and raised a hand to quiet the babbling, hyperventilating demon. "Don't think I'm doing this because I want to help you or, God forbid, I like you. It's a job. Just. A. Job. If I had it my way I wouldn't be here." Her voice was just as even and strong as he remembered.

"How are you here? Prue, you're dead." Then something else occurred to him. "Do they know?"

The woman had stilled, the anger in her eyes fading into sadness. "No," she quickly said, "and they _can't_ know. Not yet."

"But Phoebe–"

Cole slammed into the old refrigerator as Prue slowly advanced from behind the counter.

"Say her name again, I dare you."

Like a wild cat with a field mouse, Prue Halliwell had Cole pinned, her eyes piercing and holding him in place. That and the telekinesis. Just like the field mouse, he could feel like heart thumping rapidly in his chest but, unlike the field mouse, he wouldn't freeze and kill over by a heart attack. But he _was_ losing air. The burning and the fuzzy black at the edges of his eyesight were undeniable. He did the only thing his oxygen depraved mind could think of–he grinned. She stared at him in confusion, her power ebbing away.

He took in as much air as he could and coughed. The burning in his lungs eased. The darkness faded away.

"I didn't know I was–"

"Never say your sisters' names, got it," Cole interrupted. He coughed in his hand once more before he looked up at the alive-but-should-be-dead ghost. He contemplated pushing his luck and mention the Charmed Ones again, but he pushed the urge back and instead asked the more pressing question. "Why are you here, Prue?"

The woman was leaning against the counter, tense, her jaw clenched. "A job," she repeated. At his gesture to continue on, she added, "I'm an agent of the balance, Cole, I'm here to help you keep those powers of yours under check." She moved away from the counter and crouched next to him. "And you will leave my sister alone."

He chuckled. "These 'balance' people tell you to do that?"

"No, but I am. You've done enough to hurt her and now that I'm back you will never get another chance."

His humor faded and he frowned, his eyes dropped to the singed spot on the cheap linoleum floor. "It won't happen again," he insisted more to himself than to the angry ex-Charmed One.

Prue stood to her full height and, with a second, even third thought, she helped the half-demon to his feet. "Good then maybe our time together won't be so bad as I thought. Now, help me make something. I'm starving."

* * *

Seeing Prue eat was a memory he'd rather have burned. She was _inhaling_ it and most of it ended up splattering on her white shirt. Flinching, Cole moved his plate as far away from her as the small dining table would allow.

"Don't look at me like that. If you haven't eaten human food for as long as I have, you'd be the same." From under the weak light, the pale woman was blushing despite her strong words. She made an attempt to clean her face with a paper towel Cole had provided.

"You're forgetting I didn't have a human environment."

Prue hummed in agreement before she fell silent. She had stopped eating, her plate now empty of food. Which had been a lot per her demands.

Cole took this lull in time to do a once-over on the witch. Her hair had lightened up, appearing more brown than black as it had in life, and it was noticeably shorter than before, reaching just under her ears. He moved to her face where she had obviously broken her nose once or twice. Were those before or after she had died? The scars on her cheek were new. And her eyes ...

The eyes of a warrior, he realized, more so than she was as a Charmed One. It was saying something about the 'balance' Prue had spoken of and Cole didn't know if he should respect or fear what it could mean. If it could turn a _Charmed One,_ an already battle-hardened woman, into a cold blooded soldier, then what were they capable of?

Cold green eyes glared at him in contempt. "It's rude to stare."

"It's also rude to break in but you had no problem doing that."

A stiff moment later and Prue smiled.

* * *

A/N: Bleh. I wanted this to be a longer chapter but it ended up being _shorter_ than the first one. But when it feels done, it feels done. Hope it was still enjoyable despite the short length.


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